Life is for a Meaning
by keepingitblank
Summary: After Arthur's death, Merlin goes through a lot
1. after arthur's death

**This story takes place beside the lake of Avalon.**

 _After Arthur's death…_

The sun penetrated through the clouds and shone its light onto a vast green plain beyond a lush forest. Sounds of crying and howling drifted in the wind and were whisked away with the current.

A raven-haired boy was kneeling beside a limp blonde king, embracing his pale cheeks and wailing, letting his tears and sweat soak his neckerchief and his brown jacket. Towering over them, forming a huge blob of shadow, was a green-brownish dragon, with its yellowish eyes staring at the young warlock in a peaceful way.

"Merlin, there's nothing you can do now."

"Please, Arthur, don't leave me. Albion needs you." The young boy that was Merlin kept on shaking the already dead king, as he buried his head and ruffled the wild golden hair that he had never forgotten since the day he arrived at Camelot and received his destiny.

"One day, King Arthur will rise again, when Camelot is replaced by towns and cities, and he will fight to maintain the old ways. He will summon you in the future." And with that, the great dragon flapped his wings, bringing a gush of wind into Merlin's face and sending his matted black hair flying freely. "Goodbye, young warlock. I have to go. It was a nice pleasure working with you."

"Wait, you mean, you're not coming back?"

"That's the cycle of life, Merlin. No one can go against it. Not even the most elderly creature on Earth." That was the last thing the great dragon confessed to the last dragon lord before he wobbled into the air. Merlin cupped his eyes and stared at him until he emerged into a black dot and disappeared along the horizon.

The day was approaching to an end as the sun dipped down the sky and cast a color of bloody red upon the Earth, stretching Merlin's hunched shadow. In his heart, Merlin knew that he wouldn't be able to return to Camelot so he gathered some firewood and lit up a fire using magic. It felt weird to him being able to use his abilities once more for such small things. Usually, when he was camping with Arthur, to avoid revealing his identity, he always used firestones, although it always took like a handful of minutes before a small spark of orange escaped his hands, lighting up Arthur's cheerful face.

 ** _Arthur, oh, Arthur…_**

Merlin couldn't bear thinking of him. The thoughts of Arthur being happy before this never return journey just worsened the pain of him dying. Merlin's face was filled with agony like he had being stabbed in the chest. His eyes were all puffed up and bloodlines were visible snaking next to his blue iris.

 ** _If only I was faster, we could have arrived at the tower before sunset._**

 ****Merlin glanced over the shimmering lake and laid his gaze on the structure being supported on a piece of land in the middle of the body of water.

 ** _That was where Arthur could've gotten his remedy, and then we would head back to Camelot, still being happy as always, with him mocking me as a complete idiot and me scolding him back as a dollop-head. I don't care if I will have to mop the floor three times, polish his armor, being his target in training. I just want old Arthur back, with me hugging him in the starlight and pointing out constellations…_**

 ****Before he knew, Merlin's tears were rolling down his face, tears of guilt, and of course anger towards himself. He licked his lips and tasted the salty liquid. Using his hands, he wiped some of them onto the grass and laid down, taking in the scent of dirt and earth. It somehow comforted him and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, still holding Arthur's cold hand.


	2. the dream

Merlin dreamt of the Valley of the Fallen Kings. But this time, he felt like he was summoned because the Crystal Cave rested on the slope below, beckoning him to go inside. An unusual feeling of eagerness started to build up in his mind. After a moment of standing still and waiting, instead of fading away, the wave of emotion grew higher and higher, gathering bits and bits of anxiety along with it, until it was so high that it knocked the barrier of resistance over. The young warlock broke into a small run and greeted the cool air inside.

"Hello, Emrys."

Merlin twirled around just to find out he was facing three cloaked women.

"You." Those high priestesses represented the triple-headed goddess.

"So we meet again."

"Wh-what do you want with me?"

"The triple-headed goddess has declared a judgement for you."

 ** _Uh oh. I should heed their words carefully this time._**

Merlin recalled the judgement of the Once and Future King. He was destined to die at the hand of a Druid. Arthur toyed with the token that had sealed his fate, and in the end, it came true, that was if course, at a terrible price, which was his life and all the achievements he had accomplished over all those years. Merlin shuddered at this thought.

One of the priestesses fished out a token and held it above her head. Light from above beamed through the ceiling as if it was invisible, coating the coin in a shower of gold that made Merlin shield his eyes. Then, as quick as it happened, the light retreated in a flash and the cave was only illuminated by the blue crystals dotted here and there.

The priestess lowered her palm and offered the token to Merlin. Hesitantly, Merlin stepped forwards. With his hands shaking, he slowly held his grasp at the smooth edge, letting his fingers absorb the coldness of the coin's surface, feeling the engraves that were etched so long ago that they became rusty over all those centuries. Carefully, the raven-haired boy lifted the boy. His destiny was already decided and was unmovable.

"So, what exactly did the goddess say?"

The three woman chorused together, "Your punishment is a life of immortality and youth, which is against the life cycle. The people that you know will wither and die while you live young and healthy. This punishment is applied because you failed to protect King Arthur. Even though he will be reborn, you still have to accept your punishment." Merlin wanted to throw away the coin in fury, but he knew once the token was accepted willingly, even if you throw it away, no matter how far, it will find its way back and reappear right besides you like your shadow. No way to turn back now.

"Young warlock, we know what you are thinking. No man is yet great enough to rewrite his destiny." And with that Merlin was falling, as the cave faded away.


	3. attempt one

**So, guys, sorry about this late update, but I hope that you'll enjoy it.**

 ****Merlin was awakened by the chirping of the birds and the rustling of leaves. The boy groaned and rubbed his eyes, but stopped abruptly when he felt the presence of a cold object being enclosed in his left fist. Glancing down, he slowly stretched out his palm like a flower that was blooming. Sitting on the sweaty surface was a round token. A sharp intake of breath was audible, and then the clanging of metal against hard stone. Gasping, Merlin quickly snatched the coin off the patch of grass it just rested on a few moments ago. He traced the rough outline with his fingertips, not caring about the blood that dribbled down his hand, muttering words to himself, "No, this can't be." He buried his face into his hands and started sobbing. He thought about what it would be like if he went back to Camelot, to see the color of grey take over Gwen's oily black hair, to see wrinkles snake their ways across the knights' faces, to see Gaius take in his last breath and address his last words. To see all of this when Merlin was still young.

 ** _No, I don't belong in Camelot anymore. I've already stirred that place around like a stew. Time for it to get some peace._**

 ****The young warlock blinked away the rest of his tears and stood up unsteadily, nearly falling back down if he hadn't sought a dead tree for support. Following the traditions of a funeral, he found a boat and placed some dry grass left over from the last wildfire. Then, he dragged Arthur from the plain to the shore where little waves crashed onto smooth pebbles. Carefully tucking his hands on top of his stained chainmail, Merlin gave the little vessel a push and it started sailing away. Tears filled up his eyes again, and this time he didn't stop them. Small balls of water rolled down his chin and landed on his outstretched arm. Shaking, he muttered a spell, and when his eyes flashed molten gold, patches of crimson danced in the little dot beyond the horizon.

Gazing at Arthur's boat with much sincere, Merlin's thoughts drifted back to the time when he first met Gaius, the time when Prince Arthur and his fellows teased him, the time when he first dared to descend into the dungeon, the time when he first attempted to turn old… All these memories flooded back altogether and pieced together the young warlock's childhood like a puzzle. Most people regret of something they had done wrong. That applied to Merlin. He regretted that he had failed to rescue Freya, he felt bad about leading Arthur to his death, he wished that he had prevented the rise of Morgana and the betrayal of Mordred. In some way, he really did fail to accomplish his destiny.

 ** _What's the meaning of living an eternal life when you have lost everything that is dear to you? I should go die with Arthur, so that he will go to the afterlife together._**

 ****After all those thinkings that he did, there was only one solution : He would take his own life for Arthur's. Even though that idea seemed like the-most-dumbest-choice-in-the-world, Merlin had no other option. He did not want to wait for a billion centuries, living a day as if it was a year. It was too painful.

He made his way to the water. The lake glimmered in a coat of silver, brushing against the shore like a gentle soul singing a lullaby. Merlin yanked off his boots and waded through rocks with sand in between that puffed up in the water like dust. The water eagerly ascended up his knees, his stomach, his chest, as if preparing to swallow him whole at any second. Still, Merlin ignored its threaten and continued to trudge forwards, his eyes glued on the tower in the middle to keep him going. With a plunge, his head went under. Merlin held his breath and watched as bubbled escaped his nose and mouth. His lung emptied the oxygen it had stored earlier and it was tightening, screaming for air. Merlin expected himself to inhale gallons of rushing water, and he would soon lie on the riverbed, motionless, waiting for the triple headed goddess to collect his soul. But instead, a cool breeze passed through his nostrils, refreshing his lungs. With much disbelief, he tried again, only with the same result. Surely, he was wet, but he was breathing normally.

 ** _Why can't you just let it be and let me drown? How come?_**

 ****Even though his heart was protesting, part of himself actually enjoyed this experience. Sighing, Merlin paddled to shore. At least no one can kill him by drowning, even though he wanted to be murdered. He was just too eager to go see Arthur, his king, his master, and more importantly, his friend, his other side of the same coin.

 **Please R &R. Thanks.**


	4. human instinct

The sunlight was during as Merlin lit up a fire to dry himself, but at the instant the warm tongue of a flame flickered beneath layers of firewood and ash, Merlin blew it out. Water was still dribbling from his chin, his hair and his hands, making his clothes stick to his damp body like glue. Still, he refused to satisfy his skin's need of heat. He just simply exposed himself to nature, letting the coldness seep into his bones and allowing the wind to weather his skinny frame. Soon, he would catch a severe cold, let a high fever take over, and just like going up the stairs, the temperature would ascend until he surrendered to dizziness and forged himself into a part of nature itself. Time would slowly nibble on his lifeless body until he was decomposed by the welcoming soil, not including the trespassing animals that would accept the invitation and join the feast.

Still, Merlin shuddered as he curled himself into a ball and started to shake violently. He kept on stopping the desire to strike two stones or stretch out his arms. The hands that were coaxed under his both armpits felt itchy, as if thousands of ants were making their way through a long voyage. The young warlock fought back the agony and gritted his teeth, clenching his fingers into balled fists. The freshness of the cool grass did not ease his unsettled mind. Rolling all over the place like a brown paint roller, he squirmed and kicked, sometimes even flinging his arms up into the sky like he was about to drag down the black curtain that covered the planet.

Such loud noise attracted animals. Owls started to hoot on treetops, as if putting out a notice that there was a person alive and available for a meal. Leaves rustled on branches as some bats took off and soared into the air, slicing their ways in the breeze. A sound of wolf howling wavered in the patch of white mountains that laid forgotten beyond the borders of Camelot.

A pair of yellow eyes gleamed through the bushes that Merlin was facing, with his back to the water. His human instinct of surviving kicked in as goosebumps began to emerge on his pale skin. He scrambled into a sitting position, just in time to see a jaguar melt into his view. Inside, he wanted to scream, to use magic to protect Arthur from the back, but realization took him and he was filled with emptiness and regret, piling up so fast that the wave of emotion made him suffocate, just in time to block the wailing sound that was escaping his throat. His eyes bulged so large that they were like two blue balls of crystal, his muscles tensed so hard that they were squeezing his guts out of him and his brain swarmed so much inside his skull to find a solution that it was aching and spinning. The jaguar just eyed him curiously like he was a crazy boy that needed mental treatment.

Merlin clutched his heart and regulated his breathing. He did't dare blink because the jaguar in pounce in one in a million second.

Two pairs of eyes stared at each other, one sapphire blue, the other the color of amber; one frantically darting in their sockets, the other as still and as cold as stone.

The jaguar lifted its left front paw and planted it in the soft dirt before it. Merlin frantically scrambled several paces back. The animal stopped, no longer wanting to offend the young warlock. It even seemingly appeared to be bowing its head. Then it scattered, fading away as if it never appeared, just like a whip of smoke.

 ** _Oh, great, now even a fierce animal doesn't have the heart to kill me._**

 **Please R &R, thank you. Your review is very important to me.**


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